Mist and Shadow
by Loopstagirl
Summary: Merlin tries his hardest to keep his magic pure, but sometimes, can the warlock control his own power?


**I wrote this agggeees ago, but then sort of *hemhem* Lost the piece of paper! Knew there was a reason i wanted to clean my drawers out, look what i found!**

**Disclaimer: I STILL don't own Merlin, they just aren't listening to my pleading! :)**

"It's no good, we're going to have to turn back!"

It was only by straining his ears over the howling wind that Arthur could even make out the high and worried voice of his manservant.

"Don't be such a girl, _Mer_lin, we're almost there!"

"You prat!" Merlin yelled back, head bent against the buffeting wind. His hands felt like they were about to fall off, he had lost feeling in his toes hours ago, a thick mist was beginning to settle over the forest, and yet the royal prat was determine to push through the night. Ducking a suddenly emerging branch from the darkness surrounding him, Merlin glared at the back of Arthur's head. Or, at least, the direction he thought Arthur's head was in.

When silence met the servant's insult, Merlin frowned. Arthur was too proud to let any insult go unchallenged, and yet the silence drew on, thickened eerily by the fast descending fog.

"Arthur?" Calling into the darkness, Merlin felt his heart begin to beat uncomfortably fast as the only sound was his own voice, echoing spookily back through the hidden trees. Swallowing hard, Merlin nudged Drift into a trot, determined to catch up with his missing master. Arthur alone in a misty forest normally spelt out only one thing: trouble.

"Arthur!" Picking up as much speed as he dared, Merlin flew through the invisible forest, until suddenly, out of nowhere, Drift reared. Hitting the ground hard, a startled Merlin felt the breath driven out of him, his fingers not having had enough feeling left in them to be able to grip the cold reigns hard enough to keep on the horse. Hearing her footfalls thundering into the undergrowth, Merlin groaned, Arthur was going to kill him if he didn't find the mare soon.

Picking himself gingerly up from the floor, Merlin timidly tiptoed forward, determined to find whatever spooked the mare, it usually took a great deal. Whilst the rational part of him was screaming at him that it was foolish to try and something that could spook a horse when he was alone in a foggy forest, the curious side to the warlock took over. He simply had to know.

Taking another step forward, Merlin immediately discovered what the problem was. Stepping out, the servant let out a startled yelp as his heart tried to leap through his mouth, for his foot was coming down on nothing but thin air. Wobbling precariously, Merlin readied himself to use magic to save himself as he felt the rest of his balance begin to give, when a strong arm caught him around the chest, pulling him sharply backwards and sending the warlock crashing back down to the floor. Gasping for breath, Merlin tried to calm his racing heart before looking up at the shadow above him, desperately hoping that his saviour was going to be the prince, mocking insults and all. Unfortunately, this whole trip seemed to have it in for the warlock, and instead, he found himself face to face with cold metal as the edge of a sword as it was placed under his chin, forcing his head up. It really wasn't his day.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? The prince's little servant, all alone. Where's your master?"

Swallowing audibly, Merlin couldn't believe his luck. This _really_ wasn't his day. For it was not the prince who had pulled him back from falling to his death, but someone Merlin didn't want to be facing, especially alone. Of all the people that could have saved him from plummeting to his death, it had to be Brachard, leader of a group of ferocious bandits that were often rumoured to be causing terror in this part of the forest. Arthur had dealt with them on more than one occasion, beating them enough times for his servant to be rather worried about the predicament he was finding himself in, especially as Brachard had recognised him. At this precise moment in time, Merlin would have preferred falling off the cliff, at least it would have been quick.

"On your feet," Brachard snarled, moving the sword just long enough for a shaking Merlin to climb slowly to his feet. Mistaking the burning look in Merlin's eyes for humiliation, Brachard smiled in satisfaction.

Nudging him back from the edge with the tip of his sword, Brachard was already forming plans about luring the prince into a trap, using his servant as bait before killing them both, perhaps sending a ransom to Uther just to get paid as an added bonus. However, before he could think very far, the hilt of his sword erupted in a burning heat, causing him to let go with a howl of pain and surprise.

Snatching up the weapon almost blindly, Merlin levelled it at the bandit with a shaky hand. The mist was thicker now, much thicker. He could barely see Brachard, only could hear the ragged breathing of the man as he realised precisely what had happened.

"You…you're…" Smirking in an almost predatory way, Merlin felt his hand steady as his magic roared into life. He had never felt so vibrant and powerful, hearing a man he hated trembling in front of him.

"_Better serve a good man than rule with an evil one."_

Unbidden, Merlin let the memory of his confrontation with Sigan fill him up, causing the young warlock to lower his hand, disgusted with himself. He had let the power overcome him, something he had sworn would never happen. He had to use his magic for good, for protecting and saving lives, not taking them. He refused to become like the sorcerers he had helped Arthur defeat, he had sworn to himself to only use his magic for good since before he could remember, a feeling that had only intensified since being in Camelot and seeing what evil magic could cause if allowed.

"_Mer_lin, you clotpoll, where have you-," his voice trailing off as he squinted through the mist, Arthur blinked, sure his mind was playing tricks on him. Merlin appeared to have Brachard cornered, something the prince had been trying to accomplish for months. And yet, in the middle of nowhere and barely being able to see more than a few paces, his servant had succeeded. Drawing his own sword with a controlled slowness, Arthur peered into the mist, trying to establish whether they were indeed alone or whether Brachard's band were hidden around them, floating around, waiting to attack. With Brachard, anything was possible.

Moving forward, Arthur stopped when he was standing side by side with Merlin, allowing him to register that the younger man was shaking. Arthur couldn't blame him, Brachard was a beast of a man, yet the prince could not begin to guess the true reason behind Merlin's fear.

"Merlin?" Arthur muttered under his breath, a small smile playing teasingly across his mouth although his eyes never left Brachard. "Remind me to give you a pay rise."

Before Merlin could answer the prince (not that he had an answer, he was too busy trying to get over the shock of having Arthur suddenly emerge from the darkness without a moment's warning), Brachard leapt forward with a howl, throwing himself directly at Arthur. Hoping Arthur's vision was as restricted as his own, Merlin let his eyes flash soundlessly and caused an exposed root he didn't even know existed to trip the rushing bandit. What he hadn't banked on, however, was Brachard somehow managing to stumble backwards, tripping over his own feet and slipping into the vast chasm he had so recently saved the servant from.

Peering into the darkness, Arthur let out a sudden shout of glee as he realised that they were in the mist on their own, no more bandit.

"The idiot! He is more clumsy than you, Merlin. Even you didn't nearly fall over the cliff."

The roof of his mouth suddenly dry, Merlin ran his tongue over it nervously.

"How did you find me?"

"Drift came to get me. You have to stop falling off, _Mer_lin, it is quite embarrassing."

Striding forward, Arthur only registered enough to know that Merlin was following him closely, not realising the inner turmoil that his servant was going through. Intentionally or not, the warlock had just ended another man's life through the use of his magic. Maybe it didn't matter whether or not he wanted to keep it pure, maybe it was the magic that controlled him after all, rather than the other way around as he had always assumed.

"We can reach Camelot by morning." Arthur called over his shoulder as the mist once more swallowed him and caused the prince to vanish from Merlin's sight. Unable to believe quite how stubborn he could be, Merlin rolled his eyes, letting a small smile make its way out. Arthur wouldn't let him hurt anyone, no matter what, that much Merlin was sure about. Whilst the prince was around, Merlin didn't have to worry about what he may do, Arthur would keep him under control, even if he didn't realise it. Hurrying forward into the wood, Merlin scrambled after Arthur's fast disappearing back, determined not to lose sight of the prince again, yet feeling a lot better than just a few moments before.

**Review? Pretty please?**


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